torg 03- The Nightmare Dream by Jonatha Ariadne Caspian Read Free Book Online Page B

take better care of your possessions."
    "I'll keep that in mind, Djil," Bryce said, a faint smile on his lips.
    "What should I do with the necromancer, Father Bryce?" Toolpin asked. He was standing over the mage's still form, holding his battle spike at the ready.
    "Leave him," Bryce decided. "Let's just get out of here."
    12
    Mara led the way through the jungle, running only as fast as the slowest among them. Behind her was Tom O'Malley, Pluppa, and Grim. Gutterby, being the oldest of the dwarves, was slightly behind his companions, and Mara could hear his ragged breathing. At the end of the line was Tolwyn, doing her best to keep Gutterby moving. Mara deliberately chose her path through bushes and thick patches of trees — anything that made the going harder for the insect things chasing them.
    She hated running as much as Tolwyn did, but fighting appeared to be useless. The few blasts that she managed to get off from her pistol had barely slowed the monsters, and she didn't relish a hand-to-hand fight when she had only one hand to fight with. She wondered how Bryce and the others were faring, then she put the thought out of her mind. Worrying about the priest and the others would just get the rest of them killed. She couldn't afford to mourn right now, because the others depended on her to get them to safety.
    Mara crashed through the brush and found herself in a clearing. It was a road, much larger than the paths they had been following, and it wasn't empty.
    Tom emerged from the trees, gasping for breath. "Why have you stopped?" he asked.
    Mara tipped her head toward the road. Tom looked up, finally noticing the others. There were a dozen men standing in the road, all wearing military-style uniforms and brandishing old-style rifles. Pluppa pushed between Mara and Tom so that she could see better.
    "Who are they?" Pluppa asked.
    "I'm not quite sure," Tom began, "but they look like British soldiers from the nineteenth century."
    Tolwyn and the others bounded out of the jungle. "Move," the paladin commanded. "The insects are ..."
    She didn't get to finish. One of the insect things smashed into her back, driving her forward. Marastarted to turn when she saw the sold iers lift their weapons and take aim. She barely managed to grab Tom and throw herself and the pilot to the ground when the soldiers let off a volley. Bullets whiz/ed over their heads, thudding into the insect things.
    When the firing stopped, Mara looked back. The monsters had fallen apart. Insect carcasses were scattered all around them.
    One of the soldiers stepped forward. He was an older man, a little on the portly side, with a great white handlebar mustache that drooped around his mouth. He called to the group. "I say, would any of you happen to be Tolwyn of House Tancred?"
    Mara and Tolwyn exchanged glances, shrugged, and turned to face the man.
    "I am Tolwyn," the paladin said. "We thank you for your assistance. How did you stop the insect things?"
    The man laughed. It was a rich, good-humored sound. "Blessed bullets work wonders against the things of darkness," he explained. "I am General Wellington of Her Majesty's Army. We have been sent to find you."
    "Why?" Mara asked.
    "We have been ordered to escort you out of this foul jungle to a place of safety," the general replied.
    "Ordered? By who?" Tolwyn demanded.
    "Why, by Lord Salisbury, of course," the general answered.
    "This must be Thratchen's doing," Mara said in low (ones so that only her friends could hear.
    "Should we go?" Tolwyn asked, seeking advice from the others.
    "If Thratchen wanted to kill us, he wouldn't have to go through this kind of trouble," Tom said.
    "I agree," Mara added. "I think he wants us to reach
    Aysle."
    Tolwyn nodded. "Very well, General," she called. "We accept your offer."
    13
    Djil led the way, stopping often to talk to a tree or study the rocks along the ground. He seemed to be listening to them, hearing things that Bryce could not. The priest would have laughed at